


Things Change

by orphan_account



Category: Castle
Genre: AU, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-12-04 02:57:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/705737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>By the way, it was my mother.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things Change

**Author's Note:**

> AU scene from early season 1, written in light of _Target_ and _Hunt_ , but with no specific spoilers.
> 
> Written super-quick because of a deadline, so all mistakes are mine.

_Something happened.  Not to you, you're wounded but you're not that wounded.  It was somebody you cared about.  It was somebody that you loved.  And you probably could've lived with that but the person responsible was never caught.  And that, Detective, is why you're here._

 

\--

 

They've been working together for a few weeks when the detective finally makes the confession that the writer has been waiting for.  

 

"By the way, it was my mother."  

 

They're in the bullpen, finishing up after a difficult case.  For a moment the words hang, suspended in the unnatural quiet of the Precinct in the evening.  

 

He stares down at his hands, twisting his shield between his fingers.  "She disappeared when I was nine.  Dropped me off at school one morning and never came back."  

 

She'd been aware of the sense of sorrow surrounding Castle from the start, had noticed it almost as soon as he marched into her book launch party to take her in for questioning.  It's one of the reasons she was first drawn to him and one of her main sources of inspiration for the character that she intends to base on him.  She'd assumed at first that it stemmed from the loss of a wife or lover, or perhaps a child.  She hadn't considered that the source of his sadness could be the loss of a parent almost thirty years before.  

 

"She was an actress, with a reputation for being flighty and unreliable, so nobody even noticed at first.  For a long time, I was convinced she'd turn up eventually, laughing about some audition or cast party that she'd just _had_ to attend.  But she never did."  

 

"What happened?"  

 

"The police investigation was a joke.  They found no trace of her.  It was like she'd never even existed.  So they decided she'd abandoned me and gone off to pursue her dreams elsewhere.  Run off with the mailman, or something.  It was ridiculous."  

 

She's pushing it, but she has to ask.  "What makes you so sure?"  

 

His eyes flash with anger and it's almost pleasant to see the blue that is usually cold and sorrowful come alive.  "Apart from the fact that she'd never willingly abandon me?"  

 

She doesn't flinch from his anger.  "Apart from that."  

 

He takes a breath.  "Little mysteries.  Things that don't add up from then and now.  I wasn't born Richard Castle; my mother changed our last names two years before she vanished.  Why?  My entire education from the age of nine was funded by some shady scholarship from a foundation that didn't exist and was impossible to trace.  Why?  People say that I'm paranoid but I'm regularly followed by a men in suits.  I've found bugs in my apartment and in my car on four separate occasions in the past year.  Oh, and my mother's case file has been missing for years."  

 

"But surely those are leads you can follow-"  

 

"No."  He holds up a hand firmly.  "I'm done.  My mother's case is all-consuming.  It sucks me in like a black hole and it's already helped me ruin two marriages, alienate my only daughter and nearly lose my job.  It's not worth it.  Right now I'd rather just live with the mysteries."  He stands, tugging on his coat.  "Night, Kate."  

 

She looks up at him from the chair beside his desk.  "Until tomorrow, Detective."  

 

He frowns as he adjusts his scarf.  "You can't just say 'night'?"  

 

"I'm a writer."  She gives him a gentle smile.  "'Until tomorrow' sounds more hopeful."  

 

"Yeah, well, I'm a cop."  His face is closed off again, his eyes remote.  "Night."  

 

She watches as Detective Richard Castle, NYPD, walks away from her.  

 

\--

 

"You didn't get this from me."  

 

She takes the thin brown folder from Detective Esposito, studying the brief information on the cover.  "This is from five years ago."  By its weight and thickness she can tell that there are only a few sheets of paper inside.  "Where's the rest of it?  The original investigation?"  

 

"This is all there is."  

 

She flips through the scant paperwork.  "But this is all Castle's investigation.  What happened to the original police report?"  

 

"Files went missing occasionally back then.  It might be an innocent oversight."  His tone makes it clear what he thinks of that excuse.  "This is all there's ever been on the disappearance of Martha Rodgers AKA Martha Castle."  

 

She studies the photograph clipped inside the folder.  It's clearly a professional studio headshot, but there is no doubt that Castle's mother was a beautiful woman.  

 

Even as she studies the woman's face Kate finds herself wondering.  This file was compiled by Castle alone, so why did he chose to use a one of his mother's portfolio shots?  Why the professional image rather than the family snapshot?  Is it easier for him to look back at his mother as an actress rather than in her role as his mother?  

 

Esposito shifts uncomfortably beside her, glancing at his watch.  

 

She takes the hint, shutting the file and tucking it under her arm.  "Thanks, Esposito."  

 

She gets a short nod in return.  "Castle's my friend, and my partner.  This has been haunting him for most of his life and he deserves to know what happened.  He never finds out that you got this from me."  

 

"Of course.  I've got resources-"  

 

"I don't want to know."  Esposito begins to walk away, striding quickly along the aisle.  "I was never here."  

 

She follows him slowly, her head bent as she studies the screen of her phone, already scrolling through her contacts in search of the right number.  

 

**End**


End file.
